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 Content Rating Notice: Recommended for Readers 18 Years and Older Only |
| >> Static Item >> Short Story >> Horror/Scary >> ID #1815092 |   |
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Note: This story was a contest entry for the Last Pen Standing Contest. To view the contest rules, click on Contest Rules:
****************************************************************************** The Reconciliation of the Edmund Fitzgerald By Indelibleink reconcile: to settle (a quarrel or difference) "See anything out there, Sir?" The Wheelsman had noticed First Officer Stephen Davis staring intently to the northwest for several minutes, and it was making him nervous. The crew, advised of the approaching storm when they left Superior, Wisconsin earlier that day, was aware of the devastating potential this particular front held. The fact that the sea was becoming much choppier than predicted far ahead of schedule did nothing to quell Frank Couch's uneasiness. "I'm not sure, Mr. Couch. Suppose you take a look and tell me what you find." "As you wish, Sir." Officer Davis exchanged the hand-held telescope for the wheel, and Couch took Davis's place, peering out in the general direction that his superior had been moments earlier. The waves were already significant, but the evening's darkness made focusing on anything even more challenging. Couch spent a solid minute squinting through the telescope. "Aye, it is a small craft, and it looks as if the anchor light is on." Wheelsman Couch, a lifelong sailing man as witnessed by the reddish, weathered face which had spent most of its fifty-six years on the water, brought his six-foot frame back to the wheel. He didn't say it, as it wasn't his place to do so, but the concern etched in his face clearly spoke his desire to investigate further. "Agreed, Mr. Couch. I want to know what in the hell a craft that small is doing so far out in weather like this. I don't get it. She's too small to get any closer with the Fitz. I'll have Mr. Holman drop a lifeboat and take a couple of men to see what's going on over there after we get up closer." "Very well, Sir. Are you going to notify the captain about this?" "No, Mr. Couch, I don't think so. With the weather and all, tomorrow promises to be a challenge in and of itself; let's let Captain Lyons get a good night's sleep." Stephen Davis, at age thirty-seven and already second in command on the Fitz, was a highly regarded "fast-tracker" within the Great Lakes shipping community. Confident, ruggedly good looking, and with the seemingly flawless ability to always make the correct decision under pressure, he was well liked by those who worked under him. "As you wish, Sir." * * * * * * * "So, how do you think such a small boat managed to get this far out?" The deck hand known only as "T" was looking at Watchstander David Matherson when he spoke, but he would no doubt have welcomed a response from either of the two men with him. "T" Bradley, in his early twenties and already having served on a dozen different ships because of his tendency to speak his mind regardless of the company he kept. Some of his closer friends speculated the "T" actually stood for "Today" because of his propensity to party at virtually any time without regard of the consequences. "It has to be a drifter, Sailor." First Engineer Harry Holman, almost fifty, was a man of few words who disdained any aspect of his responsibilities which extended beyond engineering,but was not averse to voicing his objections. His abrupt, standoffish tone was often cited as the primary reason he had never been promoted to Chief Engineer. "Begging the First Engineer's pardon, Sir, but I now see a number of lights on throughout the boat, and I can hear the motor humming. If it's a drifter, it's not because of the engine, Sir." Matherson, in his mid-thirties, was a laid-off Ford worker who - frustrated with the union - sought employment on an ore boat more as an escape from his current situation more than any love for the sea. Still, he was considered more than competent at his position. "Comment noted, Mr. Matherson. Mr. Bradley, shine that light on the side of the craft...let's see if she has a name." Bradley did as instructed, and the men were able to make out the name, High Ebb of Temptation. Holman shone his pocket light on the paper he held in his hand. "I'll be damned if any boat by that name is listed by the Coast Guard as being out here. Either they never filed a plan in the first place, or they just got very, very lost somewhere along the way. Let's pull up alongside and see if we can get some answers. Careful...She seems to be listing a bit..." After failing to get any response from the crippled craft, the lifeboat tied up alongside, and the men boarded the boat. "Now, this is really weird." The two crewmen nodded in agreement with Holman, for around the inside perimeter of the boat, every three or four feet sat carved-out pumpkins, each with a meticulously sculpted ghastly face, illuminated from within by a burning candle. "Someone had to be alive to light these candles, yet no one responds? We may have pirates, or something equally suspect. I suggest you draw your firearms, gentlemen. Check all possible hiding places." There were three bedrooms below deck, and Holman assigned each man a room to check. With weapons drawn, each man entered his room simultaneously, but reappeared moments later. Bradley, holding a cloth over his nose and mouth, spoke first. "Two dead in here - look like older folks - early sixties, maybe. But they've been dead for a while; it's pretty bad." "Same thing," a nauseated Matherson added, "here, too. Two old people. Been dead a while." Holman nodded in agreement. "I found the same thing. Two people, both dead, not as old. I know it's unpleasant, but we all need to go back in and find some I.D. to find out where they're from; who in God's name they are..." The men did as instructed, and within a few minutes each was back out of his cabin. The wind on the lake increased significantly, and the boat began to list even more. The men began to fear that their lifeboat, moored to the sinking vessel, would also go down if they didn't leave soon. "You two get back in the lifeboat; prepare to push off, and I'll be back in a moment after I check a couple of things first." Holman then turned and re-entered the cabin. Bradley and Matherson scrambled down the ladder, then loosened the lines that secured their vessel to the sinking pleasure boat. The gusty winds seemed to be increasing exponentially by the moment in the nine or ten minutes since they had re-boarded the lifeboat. "What's taking Holman?" Just after Matherson spoke, Holman appeared, and slid into the lifeboat. "Shove off." Holman stared at the floor of the tiny craft, and never did look up the rest of the way back to the Fitz. Nor did anyone look back one final time at High Ebb of Temptation. * * * * * * * At mess the next morning, neither man said a word until after an uncomfortable twenty minutes of picking at unappetizing food and avoiding eye contact with each other. Finally, Bradley allowed his fork to slip through his fingers and broke the silence. "David, did you notice those pumpkins when we got off the boat?" "What about them?" "There were two that hadn't been carved. When we first boarded, I looked at each pumpkin closely, and each one had been carved..." "Yeah, I saw 'em, except you're wrong about the number, because I counted three un-carved ones when I was getting off the boat. Scared the shit outta me. I didn't sleep a wink last night." "Me neither. And...about them candles...who lit 'em? And maybe you didn't notice, but even though they'd been burning all that time, the candles were brand new. And here we are, ten full days after Halloween, and those pumpkins all looked like they'd just been carved? And what the hell was Holman doing on that damned boat while we waited? I feel so weird - so filthy - today." "Maybe a shower will help. One other thing: Don't you think it's strange we all searched different cabins but never went into the other cabins to verify each others story? Why didn't it seem odd to any of us at the time? Give me a logical explana..." The force of the waves smashing against the hull of the Fitz, jarred the ship enough that several plates of food fell crashing to the floor. * * * * * * * "Come in, Mr. Davis." "You wanted to see me, Sir?" "Yes. About what went on last night...I was going over your log, and let me ask you this: Did any of the men act unusual in any way after they returned from the distressed craft?" "Well, as a matter of fact, they all acted strangely, Sir. None of them wanted to discuss the matter much, but I attributed that to the fact that they had discovered six corpses on the craft. Begging your pardon, Sir, but why do you ask?" "I'm not sure how to tell you this, Mr. Davis, but when none of the three showed up for duty after mess this morning, Crewmen Terrell and Smith were sent to each man's quarters to check on them." "And..." "Apparently each man took an ice-cold shower this morning. Then, after blocking the heating vents in their rooms, they fully opened the portholes above their beds, allowing ice-cold wind into their rooms. Quickly, they effectively died of hypothermia." "But, why on earth..." "And that's not all, Mr. Davis. Each man left a note explaining his actions. In essence, they left suicide notes." With huge waves now pounding the Fitz virtually non-stop, standing upright was almost impossible. "I don't understand, Sir." "According to the notes each man left, apparently each one took something from that boat. In the case of Bradley, he took cash from one or more of the passengers. Matherson took a pocket watch and a couple of rings from the deceased. And Holman..." Davis was becoming ill from the news; shocked at what had occurred under his direction. "And what of Holman, Sir?" "Apparently the cabin he entered had a couple which was considerably younger than the other two couples. The young man was dead, but not the young woman, it appears..." "In the name of God, Sir, what happened?" "I will spare you the details, Mr. Davis, but let's just say that even in her weakened state, Engineer Holman found her very attractive, and according to his note, he did things to the young woman that he couldn't live with..." "You mean to say he raped her, Sir?" "And then left her to die on the boat..." "Good God." "Mr. Davis, get up to the bridge and direct the men as necessary. We are now short three men, and we'll need everyone to give us their best to get us through this storm. I'm going to my quarters to check on something..." * * * * * * * Shortly before seven o'clock that evening, the Fitz was in severe trouble: listing badly, taking on water, and the ship's radar had failed. The bilge pumps were not keeping pace with the intake. Captain Lyons, since returning from his cabin, had said virtually nothing to anyone - choosing to simply stare blankly through the glass that enclosed the bridge. It was becoming evident that they needed a miracle to survive the night. With the ship's communication spotty at best because of the weather, Davis took out the telescope, and looked for a sign of something - anything - out on the water that might help rescue the crew of the Fitz. As he had done almost twenty-four hours earlier, he spotted the faint - but gaining in intensity - light of an oncoming vessel. Lyons jumped jubilantly into the air, pumping his fist on the way down. "Captain! Someone's coming! If we can just hold on for ten more minutes, we're saved!" The captain slowly turned and eyed his First Officer, and spoke for the first time in hours. "Temper your enthusiasm, Mate. She's not here to save us. She's here to laugh as we go down to face our watery destiny..." "Sir?" "I mean that it's the same boat you saw last night - the same one your men boarded." "I don't understand, Sir." "That's what I checked on when I left the bridge earlier. I have books on curses and legends of the sea, and I remembered a tale of a pleasure boat that went out a few days after Halloween, just before the turn of the century. The boat strayed off course in a storm, and a Lake Erie freighter happened upon them. Well, all of the freighter's crew had been drinking - a pretty ugly lot - and rather than assist the poor folks on the boat, they robbed them, killed the men, and raped the women. One younger woman - a rape victim - survived for a couple of days, but died shortly after being rescued by another boat. Ever since, there have been alleged cases where this boat has made an appearance, right about this time of year, looking for a freighter with a crew that consists entirely of men. They are then subjected to a 'test' in which some or all of the men have the option to do either the right or wrong thing. If the men do the honorable thing, they are allowed to pass - and the pleasure craft simply vanishes into the night at some point. But if the men behave in a dishonorable fashion..." "Those men don't return?" "Close. In reality, none of the men on the entire ship return." "Begging the Captain's pardon, but I'm not one for old wive's tales. They're probably trying to raise us on the radio as we speak, Sir, but with the storm disrupting communications, I'll go down and try to signal the craft with the spotlight." Davis was out the hatch before his Captain could reply. "Do as you please, Mr. Davis. She'll be of little help to you. She's not here to save us - she's here to watch us die." The Captain then turned to a portrait of the Edmund Fitzgerald and raised a glass of wine to the freighter. "It's been good to know you, my friend. But the sea...She always enjoys the last laugh, doesn't she?" The Captain then swung around in time to see the Temptation beginning to fade as the stunned crew began to realize what was happening. Even after the boat had completely disappeared, a woman's shrill laughter could be heard throughout the Fitz. At about a quarter after seven, the Fitz snapped like a dry twig, and began its final journey - one of about 530 feet to the bottom - of Lake Superior. ****************************************************************************** Words: 2484 Disclaimer: The events depicted in this story are fictional. While these events - dates, ship names, and weather conditions in particular, but not exclusively limited to - are based upon factual information relating to the actual sinking of the Edmund Fitzgerald, this account is a fictionalized event dreamed up by the author. The names of all crew members of the Edmund Fitzgerald in this story are not the actual names of the Fitz's crew, due to the fact that the ship's sinking is still a relatively recent event and there are no doubt close family members of the crew who are still alive today. Any similarity between those crew members who were actually on board the Edmund Fitzgerald the night it sank, and those in this story is truly coincidental. However it may be interesting for some to know that on night the Titanic sank, there were 29 Able Bodied Seamen (ABS), the same number as the entire crew of the Edmund Fitzgerald. Additionally, the crew members named in this story bear the names of the nine ABS who perished the night the Titanic went down.
© Copyright 2011 Indelibleink (UN: indelibleink at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Indelibleink has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |
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